Do something for me, ok?
by Iguy
Summary: It's Jess's death anniversary and Don can't take a decision. "I loved you in that shirt... And I hated your ties, but you were beautiful with them"


**Author's rambling**: This is one of my first try with CSI: NY universe (the first try in English, to be honest) and I'm a little nervous. I've seen "Pay Up" only in English, because in Italy we're still in the middle of season five and I'm dreading the moment I'm going to see Angell's death on TV.

Oh, I almost forgot: characters are not mine. Don't sue me!

By the way, I hope you like the story and you'll tell me what you think of it. Let's go.

* * *

He's helplessly staring at the closet, in front of his clothes, trying to decide what to wear. An impossible thing to do that day.

_[Flashback]_

"_The red/blue one or the green/purple one?"_

_Jess lifts her eyes, grimacing slightly in front of the colorful ties._

"_Well?"_

"_Flack… you sure?"_

"_Don't you like them?"_

_She tentatively opens her mouth when her cell starts ringing. She sighs, relieved, grabbing the phone._

_[End]  
_

He runs a finger on his ties. He last wore one a year prior, but they are still all there, including the one described by her like "an accident on the Fifth Street". He chuckles and he's almost surprised.

He glances at his shirts: He's using them again, even if the most elegant tend to stay in the closet.

_[Flashback]_

"_Wow…", Jess is standing behind him, surprised._

"_What now?", it's getting late and he has to stop by Terrance before going into the precinct._

"_I like this shirt", she strokes his back and shoulders._

"_Do you?"_

"_Yeah… white, simple… elegant. Look at you!", she narrows her eyes, "Are you getting married without telling me?"_

_He looks at her faking surprise and guilt: "You found out! That's good work, detective"_

_They share a laugh, happy. Life is good, very good._

"_I have to go, now… don't want to make my bride wait for me"_

"_You, gentleman!"_

"_You can say that", he bends slowly, looking for a kiss._

"_Getting married and kissing another woman… thinking at it, you're not a real gentleman"_

_He smiles against her lips, "Ok, maybe you have a point. But I'm still good for you?"_

"_Perfect…", she gives him another peck, "… now, leave. I'll call you later"_

"_Ok"_

_[End]_

The white shirt is still there, hidden in some box, still sporting her blood.

She was right: It was a beautiful shirt, elegant enough for a ceremony. A year ago, he hold her in his arms, carried her under a threshold. A terrible, scaring threshold: the ER entrance. It's a sick thought. Sometimes he thinks he can still feel her warm blood against his skin, sometimes he still feels her body growing colder against his.

He sits on the floor, his legs unable to keep him upright. Without noticing he starts rummaging in the closet, only a little part of his mind focused on the task. The biggest part of his mourning brain can't stop thinking at her.

First time he met her. Locker room, at the end of a shift.

First time she smiled at him. After one of his stupid jokes.

First time he smelt her perfumed hair. Seated next to him, helping him on a case.

First time she touched him. By error, trying to grab a pen.

First time he kissed her. In the street, after discovering Sam's addiction.

First time they made love. On a rainy September evening, cuddled by the raindrops tapping against the window.

Last time he laughed with her. Flirting with her on the phone, planning their evening.

Last time he kissed her. At the hospital, waiting for Sid.

Last time he touched her. Stroking her hand, caressing the tattoo on her wrist.

Don's crying now, holding the damn white shirt, the shirt she liked so much. He's rocking back and forth, holding the piece of clothing against his chest, near his heart. It stinks, a mix of her blood, her fear and his tears, but he doesn't seem to care.

He closed his eyes, letting himself crying without restraints.

"_I loved you in that shirt" _

His head snaps and he looks around him, confused. There's no one, of course, he's alone, but he can still hear her sweet and quiet voice resounding in his head.

"_And I hated your ties, but you were beautiful with them. Do something for me, ok? Today, wear one of them. I don't care which one you're going to choose, they're all dreadful, but I'm kinda missing them. I missed you with them"_

Maybe he's losing his mind but it doesn't matter. He stands, looking at his ties, searching. He smiles lightly, taking the one he knows she used to hate the most. He puts the white shirt down, while looking for a clean one. After few minutes he's standing in front of the mirror, adjusting the knot.

"_I knew it. The gruesome MVA… of course. But it looks good on you, and you know it"_

He nods, blushing a little, almost convinced to spot her standing behind his reflection.

"_The blush! I can't believe it! Ok, we're almost there, detective. One more thing: that bloody shirt… ewww… it's scary. Throw it away, you don't need it. I'm not in that shirt. I'm in your heart. And you know, I'm missing you, miss your touch, miss spending my life with you. And I'm missing your smile. A lot. So, please, do this last thing: smile, but a true, genuine smile. For me, ok? The crazy detective who used to handcuff you to the bed. Could you? Please?"_

Don can feel again the sting of tears in his eyes, but he decides to fight against them. He picks up the white shirt and throws it away without even thinking. Then he comes back to the bedroom and he stops again in front of the mirror. He's smiling proudly, a smile coming from his inner soul.

"_Well done. I knew you could do it. I'm so proud right now. Well… now, you have to go aoutside and do your job, just the way you used to do it. I'm starting to think the scumbags out there think you're somewhat gone and I think they're in dire need of a dose of your witty, ironical sense of humor. And the City needs you. But remember I'm looking at you, so keep on smiling, because I need you to smile. Now, go, or Mac will have your ass. Even today. And don't forget I'm with you, always, and I'm thinking at you" _

Flack's smile grows a little. He nods, almost saluting her and then he's out. Going downstairs and walking down the streets he can still feel her, beating in rhythm with his heart, filling his veins, breathing within his lungs. And he can't stop smiling.

* * *

Beautiful? Horrible? Stupid? I know, all this talking about his ties, but _I_'m missing them! I swear!


End file.
